Chapter 5
Fitz
What the hell am I doing?
When I approached her outside the bathroom, I didn’t know what I intended—to see her up close, to give her shit about the birthday wish, to free her of the fucking tiara? Some of those things, all of those things.
I did not intend to invite her to the building I own next door. I did not intend to kiss her.
But the second I came within two feet of her, all my intentions and plans evaporated like yesterday’s scotch. I wanted to kiss her. Had to kiss her.
I also knew I was fucked.
She starts chattering the second we’re outside. “I’m only here for one night. Just so you know.”
That suits me fine. Better than fine.
“I wasn’t planning our wedding, but thanks for spelling out how little you’d like to see me again, duchess. It’s flattering,” I deadpan.
She frowns. “Sorry. I’m not…I’m new at this. This whole thing.”
I stop in the parking lot and face her. She stands up straight, but I still tower over her, and it makes me feel like I should protect her against something, though I’m not sure what. Me?
She wears dark jeans that hug her hips and tight little ass, along with a navy silk tank top that reveals enough cleavage to leave me wanting more. A single strand of gold around her neck with a heart-shaped charm. And she said she doesn’t believe in wishes.
Her chestnut brown hair falls in soft waves around her face, ruby lips curved into a tentative smile. I already can tell she doesn’t suffer fools.
Everything about her captivates me.
The mist that rolls in each night is so thick it almost feels like rain against the back of my neck, but I’m not getting wet.
“New at what?”
“One-night stands. Or whatever.” She throws her hands out to the sides but takes a step closer to me and licks her lips.
She’s cute. She’s also lying. She has to be. She’s too good at this.
My bark of laughter should tell her it’s been a while since anyone has made me laugh. That joke about the sailor and the nun wasn’t nearly as funny as she is.
“One-night stands, eh? I’m just showing you to a clean restroom.” I hold up my hands like an innocent man. After that serial killer comment, I think she can take some teasing.
Her face falls like I’ve punched her in the gut, and I’m relieved that she wants this as much as I do, though I feel a little terrible that I’ve caused this reaction.
Just as quickly, she recovers her composure, standing a little taller.
“Oh, please. Hot guy in a bar suggests we ‘go somewhere?’ Come on, Fitz. I wasn’t born yesterday. ”
She charms the hell out of me. Confident, but then she looks at the ground, like there’s maybe a 5 percent chance that she’s read me wrong.
I’m betting her cheeks are flushed, and I want to know for sure.
With a knuckle, I tip her chin up so she’s forced to look at me. Her jaw is fixed, mouth turned down. And sure enough, there’s that blush. “Hey. Don’t beat yourself up. It happens all the time. I guess I just give off that vibe. Then again…” I shrug. “Not saying it’s off the table.”
Her expression softens, and the blush deepens. Fucking gorgeous. “I’m just saying I don’t pick up guys in bars for one-night stands.”
“You did make a wish.”
Her eyes heat, those blue irises almost blotted out, and she lets out a shaky breath. “Excuse me?”
“What was your wish?”
Her answer tangles with a sigh. “This.”
I don’t give her a chance at another word.
Gripping her hand, I pull her against my chest, savoring the way her soft curves mold into me.
Her eyes are wide for a different reason now, and I take the moment to stare into them, wondering if it’s really possible to meet another person’s soul this way.
I’ve never had an interest or reason to know before now.
She goes so still that I can see her pulse under the pale skin of her neck. Her eyes are glassy, and I don’t think it’s from those frilly drinks at the bar.
“How many drinks did you have tonight?”
She meets my gaze, steady and clear. “Barely finished one. Whatever I’m feeling, I assure you it’s not the drinks.”
My heart drums inside my rib cage, and I almost forget that there’s air all around us that I could be breathing.
I wrap my other hand into her hair, pulling the strands back over her shoulder so I can see more of her face. Her features are soft in the moonlight. High, rounded cheekbones, full parted lips, and a small worry line in her forehead. I want to make that go away.
I also want to feel that same electric charge I experienced earlier when I ran my finger down her cheek, so I do it again, hoping the magic is still there.
No, it’s even better.
Her audible gasp tells me she feels something, too, but it can’t be anything like my hammering heart behind my ribs, my anticipation of the moment our lips meet.
I want to tease her a while longer, lingering with my face here, inches from hers, watching her eyes drift shut in anticipation...
Feel her breath…until…
I can’t bear the torture…
I press my lips to hers, brushing across her sweet, delicate mouth, teasing her with the possibility of a deeper kiss but holding back just enough. Waiting for the small whimper that lets me know she wants more.
She acquiesces almost immediately, her body pressing against mine, her lips parted, searching for a deeper connection.
And time stands fucking still.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone, and every part of me reacts gratefully like a fallow field sensing rain. But I’m a gentleman, and I need to be sure of what she wants.
When I break the kiss, all set to assess how much she’s had to drink, whether she’s in the right frame of mind to consent, and whatever laundry list of cautions my brain chooses to throw at me right now, I hear an unexpected sound.
She’s laughing.
I take a step back so I can see her face and be sure. Yep, those cheeks are even rounder as her smile gives way to a fit of giggles.
Running a hand over my face, I quickly come to terms with the idea that maybe I’m losing my touch. Granted, it’s been a while since I’ve kissed a woman, but never in my thirty-seven years has a kiss resulted in laughter.
“Good thing I don’t lack confidence, Duchess.”
She puts a hand over her mouth and shakes her head. I wait another minute for the last giggle to subside.
“I’m sorry. When I get nervous, I laugh.”
I blow out a breath and shove a hand through my hair. “Nervous was not the vibe I was going for.”
Her eyes widen, and the crease in her brow deepens. “No, it’s not you. Believe me, you were doing everything right. It just happens sometimes. I started feeling…things…and then I started thinking about my underwear and—”
I press one finger against her lips to stop her from saying more. And to let her know I understand. Sort of.
“Your underwear?”
She nods, tilting her face insistently to the side like I’m a dimwit.
“Did you misplace your panties back at the bar? Do we need to go on a recon mission?”
She shoves her fist at my shoulder. “No. I-I’m wearing everyday panties.
They’re not hot or sexy. They’re just regular cotton bikini bottoms.” Her eyes flit down, and she swallows.
Looking back up at me, she closes her eyes for a long blink and exhales.
“And by bikini bottoms, I mean full coverage and a pretty high waist.”
“You’re wearing granny panties?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and nods with a grimace. “Sorry. And I’m really overthinking this decision.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Oh, now I have to see them.”
I’ve never met a woman this guileless and honest, and it fucking captivates me. When most women would be whispering dirty things into my ear right about now and telling me about their no-underwear rule, she’s lamenting a pair of sky-high granny panties.
“No!” She takes a step back from me, but I hook her elbow with mine and drag her back to my side.
“Please.”
She puts her hands over her face. “It’s mortifying. They’re…actually beige.”
“Honey, they could be a pair of Depends, and I wouldn’t care. That’s how turned on you’ve got me right now.” I pull her in even tighter and grit out words against her cheek. “So. Goddamn. Hot. I could kiss you here in the parking lot all night like this, but I have a better idea.”
Her jaw goes slack as she struggles to pull in air. The laughter is gone. Instantly.
I kiss her cheek and whisper against her ear, “Please let me see those panties. I will make it worth your while.”
Her jagged breath and the flutter of her pulse are something I’ll remember for the rest of my goddamn life. She lets out a shaky breath and nods. There’s no further mention of underwear.
“Are you still nervous?”
“Yes, hot stranger in a bar. But in a good way.”
I can’t suppress a smile. “You keep calling me a hot stranger. You have no idea what that does to me, Duchess.”
A slow, coy smile spreads across her face. “Maybe the same thing as when you call me Duchess.”
“Maybe there’s a fantasy I could help you live out.”
“I have no doubt you could.”
I run my fingers through her hair until my hand reaches the back of her neck. My thumb massages the soft skin there. Her shoulders drop an inch.
Her resistance slips away, and that hazy look returns to her eyes.
“I’ll make you a deal. Come next door with me, and let me kiss you some more.
You can overthink or laugh or whatever.” I lean close so my next thought is just a whisper in her ear.
“Or just let me fuck every thought from your head so you stop torturing yourself.”
I plant a kiss on the skin beneath her ear and trail my lips across her cheeks until I get back to her mouth. This kiss isn’t hinting or soft. It’s deep and intentional, claiming her as mine, at least for tonight.
When we break the kiss, she’s already nodding.
“Yeah. Um, yeah. Yes. Please.”